


Dead Ends and Bad Habits

by Lignin



Category: Kingsman (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dark, Blood and Gore, Canon-Typical Violence, Control Issues, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Manhandling, Merlin (Kingsman) Lives, One-Eyed!Harry Hart, Possessive Behavior, Post-Canon Fix-It, Post-Kingsman: The Golden Circle, Roxy (Kingsman) lives, Self-Indulgent, Slow Build, kink negotiations
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-31
Updated: 2017-10-31
Packaged: 2019-01-10 20:29:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,885
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12307146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lignin/pseuds/Lignin
Summary: Eggsy doesn’t blame the surviving Kingsman for their wariness and caution.  They can all sense Harry’s ambivalence towards his former life’s moral and emotional ideals.  When they start emergency procedures to recall retired and deep cover Kingsman to an undisclosed bunker neither Harry nor Eggsy were invited.Harry doesn’t mind, he is more intrigued about who Gary "Eggsy” Unwin is than Harry Hart Super Spy.  They elect to remain in Cambodia and as the Monsoon season settles in, the sultry country seems to drift into another reality.  Only Eggsy grounds him.  Only Eggsy engages all of his senses.Also, Eggsy may or may not have been adopted by a herd of Asian elephants.





	Dead Ends and Bad Habits

**Author's Note:**

> I am English Second Language, no beta therefore tenses and grammar are all over the place, and not Brit-picked.
> 
> Thank you for dropping by.

     Rain drops suddenly and violently, bringing him solidly into the present. Silvery sheets waver across the destroyed landscape, the air nearly punched out of him by the sheer pressure.  Harry is drenched between one breath and the next, staring own at what was left of the leader of their second, two-prong approach to PoppyLand.

_"Oh, hi! I'm Mona, I’ve been waiting for, like, ever!”_

     Around him Poppy’s machines are still ablaze. Thick, oily smoke spews from them, boiling and expanding upwards.     

_Eggsy’s mouth had dropped open, eyes darting from the platinum blond hair to the hot pink camo print. “The Asian Valley Girl!” he blurted. Her entire persona was the pass code for safe contact._

_“Right,” Mona agreed, drawing out the i and dropping the accent for a blessed moment, “and you are not Merlin.”_

     She was born and raised somewhere in the Louisiana bayous, Harry deduced by her French-tinged, Southern U.S. accent.

     A pair of minimally damaged machines sat on their haunches directly opposite of the thickest section of the human shield formed around Mona. Her team had somehow erected barricades of sharpened bamboo at varying heights to recoup behind. It had not been enough.

     The technological marvels are surrounded by piles of spent shell casings and pulped vegetation. Deactivated upon Poppy Adam’s death they glistened in the rain and firelight, as if newly minted from the factory.

     Mona’s team had no name, they were not affiliated with the Statesman at all. Harry was aware they hadn't asked for permission to join this mission but neither had Mona. She was not a Statesman agent, just support staff based in Southeast Asia. Ginger Ale claimed her nephews were affected by Poppy's drugs. They were all Mona had left.

_"You shouldn't be here," Eggsy had snapped._

_"We do not have time for this!”_

_“This is a suicide run!”_

_“Oh, you want to play that game?” Mona sneered. "I'm the one who got the information to Statesman. I've been following and reporting on this pusscunt for more than a decade! We’ve always known about this bitch but it never mattered until now, did it?! Only when your people got affected is she suddenly a problem!"_

_Eggsy had physically retreated as she went in swinging. "Well, at least," he'd stammered, “tell me your real name?”_

_“What?” Bewildered, Mona stopped and glared at Harry, no doubt blaming him for Eggsy’s mis-timed attempts at cultural inclusion._

_“Apologies,” Harry replied, “he’s doing his best.”_

_Merlin had looked up from double checking their gear while still having a good chuckle at them all.  
_

_“Ugh, unbelievable,” Mona tsked. “Just...whatever.” She stabbed a finger at Eggsy's glasses, “Statesman keeps their promises, yeah?”_

_“We are Statesman,” Ginger Ale patched in, standing tall with shoulders and hair tossed back despite Mona’s inability to see her. “not politicians.”_

_“Ooh, fab!” A bright, white smile was flashed and Valley Girl snapped her gum at Merlin with a, “Go!”_

_Merlin dutifully repeated her team’s portion of the plan, “you will protect our getaway route but priority goes to destroying the poppy productions with extreme prejudice. As agreed upon.”_

     Now, he too was in bloody pieces.

_"Yeah, alright!” Valley Girl cheered and bounced over to Eggsy, blond hair as stiff as a helmet even in the sweltering humidity. “But, like, just so we're really clear on our roles what are you guys doing again?”_

_"Why, Miss Mona,” Eggsy quirked a charming brow at her which Mona imitated right back at him, and they shared a grin.  “We follow the domesticated mango trees as scouted, yeah? They're fairly distinguishable from their wild cousins and satellite coverage should get through enough to receive identification if we become lost.”_

_She had swept a long look at their suit’s precise cuts and odd assortment of gadgets in hand, blatant amusement temporarily relieving the darkness in her eyes._

     The upper torso and head was shredded, her expressive eyes no more. She will never again flash that gap toothed smile.

_"Brilliant,” Mona sighed._

     Statesman closest to Southeast Asia had rushed over, despite all logic and common sense, with full acceptance of wasting resources to reach their position. It would, of course, make no difference as Poppy Adams set her plan into action. As Mona and her people unabashedly went about their duties while being cut down by man-made things that knew no pain.

_"This is the path of least resistance,” her accent changed again to something heavy. German, and now Harry wasn’t so sure of his earlier assessment of her origins. “We cleared it as best as we could.”_

     Harry had surprised himself by wondering if she had tried for an active position in Statesman. Cynically he remembered her vibrant persona upon introduction. Underneath the pastel make-up, loud clothes and hair, her round face, dark eyes and brown skin were blank canvases. She would blend in anywhere. Just another meek, battered female minority.

     Chester King would never have read past her given name before deleting her application. Regardless of how blue her bloodline was in her own social, national and cultural circles or how perfect her temperament was for spywork. Or as Support staff.

     If it was toothless tests and bloodless challenges to choose a Knight agent the process to train background support in Kingsman style was literal years of strategy games and instilling a thorough understanding of emotional intelligence. They are, after all, the true spine of the agency, the ones who must keep a clear head when the world implodes. They are the keeper of secrets and vast, centuries-old information networks.

     And they are all from Europe, exclusively Caucasian.

_Merlin had caught his eye then, regret heavy on his brows and the thin line of his lips._

     Harry could almost read his thoughts. Merlin had likely been remembering all the candidates who were rejected based solely on their physical looks. The circumstances of their births. All the ones he was forced to stand silently by and watch as they went on to pricelessly benefit others. Merlin would have personally sabotaged the life out of any of the male candidates several times over if it meant creating a spot for someone like Mona.

     They, at least, would be nothing like the weak-chinned _inbreds_ Kingsman had field tested and failed unequivocally in the past.

_Merlin had watched Mona’s men who slipped in and out of the trees like mist, barely disturbing the earth with their mass. He'd looked at their hastily thrown together base, so strangely delicate and ephemeral against the sheer denseness of the luxurious, wet greenery._

_He'd looked back at Harry right then. Thanks to Richmond Valentine's Hate Plague and Poppy’s drugs they now have the perfect opportunity to do just that. If they all survived this._

     No, Harry did not need an interpreter for Merlin.

     Sizable rivers are now snaking through the fields. They must have destroyed some of the earthen works keeping the fields properly drained. The fires belched more smoke, hissing and crackling against the elements. Everything smelled of scorched metal, of copper. He could taste it on his tongue, bright and warm.

_"Off you go now,” Valley Girl chirped in lieu of goodbye._

     There were so few of them and their allies left. Statesman, knowing their loved ones might still be suffering even after being administered the antidote to Poppy’s cruel and unusual poison, drifts through the rapidly flooding haze. Past and present came together as they remove their hats and avert their gazes in respect.

     Behind him Eggsy limps heavily through the soul-sucking muck towards him. Making sure, with loud exaggerated movements, to not surprise Harry or come up on his blindside without warning.

     "The runway is mush and so are the trails out of here,” he shouts through the pounding rain. “We have to walk to the nearest paved road!”

     He stops abruptly when he recognizes the chunks of pink camo Harry was shielding. “Shit, I don’t even remember...”

     The sign of an excellent spy is their ability to become inconspicuous even if they were alone. Mona never liked taking photos of herself, someone in her group had mentioned. That someone was likely dead, too.

     Harry wordlessly makes room for Eggsy beneath the umbrella. He notes their Oxfords and trousers are total losses, the thick mud and vegetation splattering in every direction as it were. He is instantly, inappropriately amused when a memory bubbles up revealing rows and tiers of clothing back on their Statesman-loaned plane.

     Eggsy fiddles with his breast pocket for a moment, attracting Harry’s eye. He crouches down, heedless of the seeping gore and lays his handkerchief over the approximate area containing Mona’s head. Everything was slowly being buried by the monsoon-churned mud.

     Harry tips the umbrella further. Another useless gesture, serving no one. As tragic as this is he knows in a few hours her existence will be blurred from his memory.

     An extreme close-up of Ginger Ale’s sun-tipped hair pops into view on his lense. She steps back and quickly resizes herself into the corner of his vision field.

     “Galahad,” Ginger Ale says by way of greeting.

     “Ginger Ale,” Harry replies in kind.

     He knew the moment the gates to PoppyLand had closed an emergency evacuation helicopter was dispatched to retrieve the injured. The way Statesman had swooped in to save him.

     “We've stabilized Merlin and taken him to the nearest secure facility. I’m sorry, I would offer our best but, well, they’re recovering too. And we are working on him now though.”

     “I understand,” he replies much gentler than he meant too seeing the misery and tears gathering. Ginger dashes them away in quick, betrayed scrubs of her balled up fists. “Thank you.”

     She takes a moment, and Harry uses his pocket square on Eggsy’s wet, reddened cheeks with his free hand. Eyes widening, Eggsy stares back at him. Beneath the umbrella they have a moment to themselves and he sees no reason not to indulge. Eggsy lets out a slow breath as Harry continues to carefully stroke mud and unmentionables off of scabbing wounds.

     Ginger Ale trips over Mona’s given name, bit her lips, and Harry witnesses the moment when she remembers Mona’s particularities about that issue. She respectfully does not try again. “Mona’s team will be seen too according to their individual traditions and, ah...”

    Harry continues to wait patiently as she wrestles with decisions while Eggsy helps him move away. The clean-up teams had tactfully given them as much time as they could before everything becomes irretrievable.

     “Mona’s home base has extended an invitation to rest at their compound,” Ginger says. “If you would like.”

     Eggsy looks at him and at Harry’s nod, replies, “We would appreciate that very much. How is everyone in Kentucky?”

     “Relieved, assessing the damage,” she sighs, shoulders drooping, “recovering.”

     “I'm sorry about Agent Whiskey,” Eggsy says.

     Ginger shook her head, “Valentine's Hate Plague was bad enough but this? We have so many people affected. We're a touch overwhelmed over here--”

     “Then,” Harry interrupts, “go take care of your people, Ginger. We will manage.”

     Ginger Ale confirms and signs off after sending them a startlingly dense data packet.

     Eggsy looks up to him, sweet and trusting, and Harry asks, “Ready?”

     Under the shade his eyes were darkened but Harry could already read the answer glimmering in the tropical light.

     Eggsy replies, “Yes, Harry."

**Author's Note:**

> Wait, you read all the way to here? Wow, thank you!
> 
> Yeah, K:TGC [affected me pretty fucking personally](https://kaleidoscopehart.tumblr.com/post/166418894608/lesbianantiiope-reblog-if-youve-been-personally). I desperately miss my home country thus this fic.
> 
> Kingsman and all associated properties are © Matthew Vaughn, Marv Films, Cloudy Productions, Shangri-La Entertainment, TSG Entertainment and everyone else who is not me. I am not making any money off of this.


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